Episode 38: Murder Boards and Edgar Lee Masters

Aubrey Lance, S.S. (Supernatural Sleuth) -- Season 1, Episode 38: Murder Boards & Edgar Lee Masters

Trenchcoat Man turned to look at me. “Can I see that notebook page of yours?”

I stared at him, caught off-guard by the abrupt shift of topics. “Oh. Yeah,” I said after a moment. I took off my backpack and dug out Emery’s notebook, opened it to the right page, then handed it to him. 

“This quote in the left margin,” he said, pointing to the one from Spoon River Anthology.

“This is the one you believed to be about Mr. Pierce?” 

“Yes,” I answered, nodding. “Why?” 

His eyes locked on mine. “I’ve never read it. What’s it about?” 

“It’s from a collection of poems by Edgar Lee Masters,” I answered. “All the poems are about people who have died in this one town. What Emery wrote there is from the poem about a man named Cassius Hueffer. When he died, the people of the town etched a quote from Shakespeare on his headstone, but this altered version—the phrase Emery wrote out—is what Cassius Hueffer’s spirit says they should have written on his headstone. Instead, he has to put up with what they actually wrote, which he calls an epitaph ‘graven by a fool.’” I gestured in air quotes, signifying that the last phrase was a direct quotation.

Trenchcoat Man looked off in thought again. “Perhaps I am the fool,” he muttered. 

My stomach clenched. “Why?”

He handed the notebook back to me with a somber look. “Let me show you.” He headed to the bifold doors and opened them. 

The space behind the doors was indeed a closet as I’d suspected, but it was bare of anything except a corkboard on the back wall—covered end to end with handwritten paper-slip notes too small for me to read at a distance, interspersed with miniature photos held on with push pins and organized under columns labeled in large letters as Deceased, Taken, and Suspected Targets. The notes and photos were connected here and there with bits of colored string.

An honest-to-goodness murder board—a real one.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Collin move. I glanced at him. 

He grinned at me. “It even has string,” he whispered, bouncing on his toes with excitement.

Trenchcoat Man turned back to look at us. “I’ve been keeping a list these past few years of supernaturals who have died under suspicious circumstances, or who are missing and presumed taken.”

That intrigued all of us, but the office was small and crowded, and there wasn’t room for more of us to gather around the closet on the other side of the desk. My parents, Collin, Lockley, and I moved as close as we could, which still wasn’t close enough to see the details, and let Trenchcoat Man explain what was on his chart.

He pointed to the Deceased list. “Madame Sava, whom Aubrey’s librarian friend mentioned, is one we know was killed directly by the group we’re after, and the others died in far too unusual ways for it to be happenstance. We’re certain they’re connected—most likely all killed by the same group.” 

It was too far away for me to read the names or make out the faces in the photos, but that list had at least a dozen names on it. My heart sank. “They’ve really killed that many supernaturals? Why?” 

“We’re still not entirely sure,” he replied. “It could be a hate crime—something against those with powers—but we suspect our culprits are supernaturals themselves, or at least allied with some whose abilities they find useful. So the motives are unclear.” 

He let that sink in for a moment, then continued. 

“As far as those presumed taken…,” he said, pointing to a much shorter list. “Emery is of course one of those, along with Chloe, though we don’t believe she’s a supernatural. And there were several others taken before them. A few of them are still on the list.” 

The cheer hawks sailed back in through the window and shifted, silently joining the conversation. 

Collin looked at Trenchcoat Man and asked the question I was thinking. “What about the others? Were they found?”

I knew in my heart what the answer would be before Trenchcoat Man even said it. 

His expression turned solemn. “Unfortunately not. The others have all been moved to the Deceased column. They were killed not long after they were taken.” 

A dismal silence fell over the room. 

Trenchcoat Man’s eyes widened, as though he’d just realized what he’d said. “Not that we suspect that has happened yet to Emery or Chloe,” he added quickly. “All the others turned up quickly—this group never hides the bodies. They want us to see what they’ve done, once they decide to kill. It’s a message.” 

What he’d said was a minor consolation… but I’d also cause his use of yet. 

I drew a shallow breath and tried to push my fear down.

His voice thickened with frustration as he continued. “The other reason that list is so short is because it's likely there are others they’ve taken that we just don’t know about. People are only reported missing if their disappearance is deemed suspicious. If they seem to have left of their own accord—for example, if the police were misled to think they were runaways—then they may never make it onto our list.” 

Exactly like what almost happened to Chloe.  

“The main point right now is this: as we added each name, we’ve been indicating that person’s known gifts—see here?” He pointed at small symbols sketched beside each name. “We weren’t specifically noting elementals, just specific magic types, several of which fall under elemental. But now—” He rushed to his desk and shoved aside papers, grabbed a pen from a cup that had until that moment been buried, then hurried back to the board and hastily scribbled a star by several of the names on the Deceased and Taken lists. He turned back to us with a wild look in his eyes. “Those with stars are confirmed elementals—supernaturals with gifts related to the elements. The others are those with other gifts. No symbol means no known gift at all.” 

The majority of the names on the list had stars, save for a few with other symbols I had no meaning for.

“Why does it matter if someone was an elemental?” Lockley asked. 

Trenchcoat Man gaped at her. “We were looking for patterns, don’t you see? Emery was marked in our list as dreamspeak and visions. Chloe, no known powers. Everyone on this list had gifts that were either elemental—fire magic, water magic, earth magic, or air magic—or mind-gifts like clairvoyance, dream-walking, and prophecy. I didn’t see it, at first. Those who vanished were all of different ages, different backgrounds, some male and some female… It seemed entirely random.” His voice grew more animated. “This is why I’ve been such a fool. ‘And the elements so mixed in him that he made warfare on life,’” he quoted, looking right at me. “I don’t think that quote is only about your dear Mr. Pierce—I think someone is intentionally trying to collect and use a mixture of elemental gifts. I didn’t see the pattern before, because so many had been taken who weren’t elemental, and we were focused on the specific gifts, not the categories. But don’t you see? They’re collecting two specific categories of magic for two different purposes. Whoever this group is, they’re taking only elementals… and those with mind-gifts who might be able to see or predict what their group is up to.” 

Jillian let out a little gasp. “Or, in the wrong hands, to see or predict what we’re doing to try to stop them.” 

Trenchcoat Man nodded proudly at her. “Precisely.” 

“So there is a pattern,” my dad said, sounding hopeful. “This is the first break we’ve had in ages. But what does it mean? What are they after?” 

“With this particular mix of magic…” Trenchcoat Man said ominously, then pointed at the notebook I held. “According to the clues your ingenious daughter left us,” he told my dad, “I’d say they’re planning a war.” 

***

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